January-March 1975: On the surface, 1975 was ushered in as traditionally normal with national leaders uttering pious platitudes about it being a time to take stock or to turn a new leaf or to redouble revolutionary efforts or whatever the national theme happened to be. To a casual observer nothing much had changed from before. But changes, some not yet due and others overdue, were certainly in the air. Yet, as the Indo-China war entered its thirtieth year, there was a sense of expectancy and urgency in some quarters, resignation and lethargy in others, with almost everywhere a feeling that this thirtieth year, come what may, come something would.
Communists may be inefficient but they can be doggedly thorough. After the Ban Ban findings proved inconclusive and neither that incident nor the killings in the jungle follow-up had been properly explained, confirmation of Nga Sô Lựự’s nagging suspicion of a counter-revolutionary group calling itself the Four Rings had remained as elusive as ever. The Politburo had in no way suggested that Lựự had neglected his duty or any reasonable precaution although there had been a hint that he might have over-reacted. He had, therefore, kept his Four Rings fear to himself, angry beyond belief that the initiative had been wrested from him by unseen hands and unknown heads. Mana Varamit’s disappearance was still a mystery, as indeed was Tâ Tran Quán’s reappearance, but efforts to find the Thai, dead or alive, inside Laos or, perish the thought, abroad, simply had to be made. There were so many other aspects of their revolutionary struggle in Laos that he could well have done without this business. Even monitoring Tâ Tran Quán’s progress would take much effort as he was loth to take anybody else into his confidence … yet. So, while those unfortunates in and around Ban Ban who had defaulted through ignorance or inefficiency were being duly chastised, he bent his mind how best to extend his inquiries, furtively and obscurely, far and wide, into both zones, knowing full well that those who organise such activities do so months, if not years, in advance of any operation and at a safe distance from the scene of action. He had drawn up a highly confidential letter addressed personally to individual cadres making each one search his mind and let him know of anyone, of cadre rank, who had ever contacted a foreigner, even for a few minutes, without any other comrade being present or, if one were, not being able to hear what was being said. He had added a note to his draft to the effect that this information, sent and accepted in confidence, was needed the better to react to the expected change in the political situation which was certain to demand an even greater sensitivity that before. He had also drafted another letter which required relevant local agents to recheck their records of movements within Laos of foreigners, Asians included, to see if any insignificant fact had escaped them. This would take some time as the list embraced such people as domestic servants, watchmen of embassies, telephone operators, sub-agents in bars and brothels, not forgetting the man who monitored movements at the Phou Si Hotel at Luang Prabang, and Air America along with Continental Airways.
The Black-eyed Butcher had then called in his confidential secretary and shown him the two drafts. After reading them, he turned to Lựự and asked if the Soviet bloc and the Chinese were to be included amongst those targeted.
‘Send our Soviet comrades a copy of each directive. I’ll draft a covering letter asking for their cooperation. Don’t bother about our Chinese comrades. Thank you for mentioning them. I’ll exclude them from the Asians who have to be checked.’
‘This will take some time and the rainy season is not far off. By when do you want these reports, including ‘nil returns’, to reach Office 95?’
‘By the last day of 1975. And ask people to start from,’ he paused as he thought of Mana’s and Tâ’s fateful misfortune on Skyline Ridge, ‘18 November, 1972.’
After dismissing his secretary, he concentrated on how best to run Mana to earth if he was still alive, as, in the heart of his heart, he felt he was.
In the American military hospital in Utapao, southern Thailand, situated alongside the Joint Casualty Resolution Centre – to resolve, hence the odd name, the fate of missing US servicemen – and adjacent to the same large complex at Sattahip where the USAF had its B-52s, F-111s and U-2s, the brain surgeon looked down at his patient, Mana Varamit, pleased with what he saw. It was a New Year social call more than a medical check up. Considerable therapeutic treatment had been administered over the past nine months, sympathetically applied, skilfully handled and sensibly controlled. The surgeon had a job to do in the unfamiliarly named centre where, in a macabre fashion, the grisly remains of the few sad unidentified American corpses, only forty-five in two years from the Indo-China war, were analysed to see if they could be identified. And now, looking down on a smiling Mana, the brain surgeon recalled when he had been brought in. An unusual case, he had been informed at the outset of his task of rehabilitation: an agent on the run from Communist-held Laos, suffering from loss of memory as the result of a head injury who, hopefully, held the key to many sensitive and unsolved matters were he normal. That the man had suffered physical hardship was obvious from even a cursory glance: sore feet, scratched arms, insect bites and physically weak with an emaciated frame, let alone a villainous scowl, disjointed speech and hostile attitude. Two constraints had been placed on the surgeon, one of complete secrecy and the other of the most careful screening before anyone was allowed to visit or even guard him. The surgeon, a Thai trained in USA, understood the need for such precautions so had not questioned them nor did he inquire too closely into the background of his patient. He had given instructions that first day and gone back to his office where the man who had escorted the sick man from Vientiane was waiting for him.
‘I have ordered complete rest, sedation, light diet and some medication to build him up. Watch and ward must be unobtrusive and visitors as infrequent as possible. I will watch him closely. It is far too early to give any opinion on his chances of recovery. Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep you posted as I gather you’re most interested in him.’
Ed Murray, the other man, nodded his assent. Listed in the US embassy in Bangkok as a Cultural Attaché, he was one of the select group of men who already had full knowledge of the case. He had a difficult and delicate mission which needed the surgeon’s permission to be fulfilled. ‘Sure, Doc, I understand. Right now I and my colleagues wish to express our thanks for the trouble you’re taking in this case and sincerely hope you will have success. I would like to ask you a couple of questions if you don’t mind. Can you spare the time?’
‘Go ahead. I understand that you have more than a passing interest in my patient.’
‘Can you see yourself using psychiatric methods during the cure you’ll be prescribing?’
‘Most probably yes but the depth, frequency and severity I’ll be applying are unknown factors at the moment.’
‘Sure, sure. During this stage will you be giving any sort of drug like, for instance, Pentothal, to help him lose his inhibitions?’
The surgeon eyed his visitor narrowly. ‘I won’t commit myself in that sphere either. I have yet to discover what part of the brain has been affected. Maybe yes, maybe no. Why?’
‘Because if you do, I have been tasked to request you see a man of, shall we say, security choice who could be properly briefed rather than a medical man who might be a security risk. I’m referring to the man you’ll need to help you administer the drug.’
‘On the face of it, yes, but don’t rush me. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
That had been nine months previously: at first the surgeon had found his charge recalcitrant. Most war-wounded Americans were flown back to the States so the hospital at Utapao was not ideally equipped to handle really complicated cases. But the brain surgeon persevered. During the first session of therapeutic treatment, the surgeon had been startled by the extent of knowledge revealed by his patient. Much of what he had blurted out during their talks, with his volubility induced by Pentothal even though Ed Murray was not present at that session, did not make sense. It was as though Mana was talking in code: the hints, inferences, gestures were of such intensity that only a similarly placed initiate could comprehend their meanings. The surgeon had then decided to call the man from the embassy. He rang through to Bangkok and was re-established contact. The Cultural Attaché had been warned that Mana’s recovery would be slow. ‘I find it strange that one name he had uttered seems to be that of an Englishman, somebody named Rance. Does that ring any bell with you?’
‘Why yes, Doctor, actually it does. The fellow he’s referring to is the British Defence Attaché up in Vientiane. I’ve heard a lot about this guy although I’ve not met him,’ he dissembled, ‘but I do know it so happens that he and Mana have met before. This man Rance used to run the British Army’s Jungle Warfare School down in Malaysia and visited Thailand once or twice. Do you advise a meeting if it can be arranged?’
The upshot was that a meeting was planned. It had been on the cards for some time that the Americans would invite the Vientiane attaché corps, less Communist country representatives, to Sattahip to the Joint Casualty Resolution Centre so that they could understand the American effort to resolve the fate of missing US servicemen and use that knowledge in an effort, however forlorn, to influence friends of the Hanoi government, if not the North Vietnamese themselves, as to the sincerity of American purpose in trying to locate and recover their war dead and their prisoners in Vietnamese hands. An invitation, at short notice, was extended to the attaché corps to visit the Centre, flying there and back the same day. The British, Australian, French, Filipino, Thai and Khmer Attachés accepted, the remainder declined.
At the same time as this was being arranged, Mango had had a message from Head of Station Bangkok to contact his British counterpart and have a meeting with him and Rance. Only outline points were mentioned. Accordingly, Mango and Gordon Parks, who had frequent and regular contact, fixed up a threesome. Mango was glad anything to do with Mana was to be conducted well away from Laos. His first meeting with General Etam after Mana’s snatch had been frigid to say the least of it. Rance had already been alerted by Colonel Gurganus of the trip south so presumed it was something to do with this visit that the meeting had been called. Mango gave details: first the background, then the present situation.
‘Your one-time student, Major Mana Varamit, now undergoing treatment in Bangkok, has been talking about you.’ He glanced at Rance who remained impassive. ‘It seems that he’s been put under sedation and then some psychiatric drugs administered which have resulted in your name being uttered. Would you be willing to talk to him and try to help him unravel his hang-up?’
There was a pause, quite a long one, as Rance’s mind flashed back to Mana’s state when they had met in Bouam Long. The Englishman had been deeply troubled by Vong’s non-arrival and Mana’s unbalanced animal fury. He felt no worry about reprisals, only an overwhelming sadness at the endless futility of man’s hatred of man. He was reminded of the way ants fight to the death when two lots of them met, predators both. Standing with Olympian stature above them, they were so small and insignificant yet so terribly engrossed with each others’ destruction, even at that tiny, insignificant level. As for men … He had been allowed in at the initial debriefing of the escort commander and had followed the course of events, adding details in his mind’s eye from his own experiences. He particularly liked the professional standard of jungle lore displayed on their way back. Vong would have made an excellent instructor at the Jungle Warfare School. He sincerely hoped Tâ Tran Quán had managed his re-infiltration successfully and safely but he was not optimistic. As for Vong, the escort commander firmly believed he was dead, but, with no proof, confirmation was impossible. He, Rance, would probably never know what really did happen. The concern he had felt then flickered momentarily on his face and did not pass unnoticed by Mango and Parks.
Rance came back to the present and cleared his throat. ‘Sure. Of course I would. I only hope I can be adequate.’
‘Well, there’ll be a Thai brain surgeon there and a representative of my push to help guide the conversation and you if necessary.’
It was arranged that Rance would go with the visiting Attachés and pretend to be under the weather during the lunch break. The other Attachés would be taken on a more general tour of the establishment while Rance would be offered a place to rest until the plane was due to return. If he hadn’t finished with Mana, they’d keep him overnight and fly him back the next day. His absence could easily be explained to the others and his departure from Vientiane would be accounted for without any pretext.
Rance thought for a moment. ‘I can slip a toothbrush into my pocket and get a shave down there if I have to make a night stop. Seems simple enough.’
The interview with Mana had to be stage-managed to the extent that Rance would not be visible to him to begin with. The surgeon had started his preparations around half past 12. Lunch was over by 1 o’clock and the visitors were sitting around coffee and liqueurs. Rance asked where the rest room was and, on his way over, told the conducting officer that he was feeling queasy and might ask to be excused the afternoon part of the programme. Regret was expressed and, once outside the room, met up with the man Mango had described – ‘He’ll call himself Ed’ – and was taken to the hospital where he was ushered into Mana’s private ward. The Thai surgeon, holding Mana’s hand, was sitting on a chair by the bed. A hypodermic syringe, administered by an orderly, was stuck into his arm, just above the wrist. The surgeon gestured to Rance to sit on a chair on the other side of the bed. Mana’s eyes were shut.
‘Mana. Major Mana Varamit. Remember Lieutenant Colonel Rance? You must think of Rance … Rance the Englishman … Call for him … Ask for him … He may come this time and help you,’ droned the surgeon as though he were incanting a ritual.
Mana stirred. An expression of pugnacity appeared on his face. A fraction of pressure was applied on the hypodermic needle and his expression softened. A tear welled in each eye and trickled down his cheeks. ‘Tan Phan To Phou Banchakan …’ Lieutenant Colonel, Commandant …
Rance took his clue from the surgeon and answered softly, ‘Sawadi Tan Phan Tri Mana. Sabai di, rü’? Welcome Major Mana. How are you? ‘Here I am, Lieutenant Colonel Rance, Commandant of the Jungle Warfare School. You are here as my Guiding Officer for the Thai students. You are in my office. What do you want to tell me?’
‘I want to talk to you alone. Let’s go into the jungle. There are too many people nearby. Le Dâng Khoã may overhear me. He wants to kill me. I saw him pick his ring up and give it to you. If you meet me in the jungle, Sergeant Major Prachan Pimparyon can guard us. He can keep Le Dâng Khoã away till we’re ready for him. He also saw him give it to you.’
‘Right. We can go right away. We’re now at the bottom of the hill, on the road by the helicopters. The football pitch is over on our right. Do you recognise it?’
Another tear well up. ‘Yes, I do. This is too open. Let’s go into the jungle.’
‘We’ll move on. Out of the camp, along the road, up a track, out of the truck, into the jungle but it is only secondary.’ Rance shot a glance at the surgeon who indicated him to keep talking. ‘We’ve arrived at last, in thick jungle and we’re off the track. The others are still re-organising after the final attack. Le Dâng Khoã is far away. Sergeant Major Prachan is guarding us. What do you want to tell me? Tell me now, Major.’
‘Le Dâng Khoã gave you his ring. He is one of the four. He knows I know … I’ve got to stop him …’ as the man was talking Rance’s mind was fixed on that tense scene enacted on that near-calamitous occasion. So Mana had crept back unobserved! ‘… I’ve got to stop him and the other three. I’ve got to get word of them back to Office 95. I’m pressed for time.’
‘Don’t worry, Major. You’re safe here in the jungle. No one can get you. You’re safe here and now, also. You’re safe everywhere. You know I’m your friend. Le Dâng Khoã gave me his ring. I’m like the other three. We know each other. We’re friends. I still have it. Le Dâng Khoã hasn’t got it any more so there’s no need to kill him or Tâ Tran Quán or Thong Damdouane or Bounphong Sunthorn. Think back, think back … You can now trust me and them. When did it start? You should never have left the wat all those long years ago. The others waited for you, five fathers, five sons. The abbot wondered where you went. He waited for you, Mana. You were taken away by someone else who didn’t want you to have a ring. Didn’t want you to kha, to kill, them like the others. Can you remember, Mana. Try, try. You’re only a small boy,’ and Rance hummed a popular Thai lullaby, crooning gently. He was sweating, even though the temperature was air-cooled. Mana seemed smoothed. He wept.
Grotesquely, in a feeble falsetto, he said, ‘Great Teacher, why did they burn the village? I didn’t understand them. Where’s my father? I’m lost. And my younger brother? Dad said he’d gone away. ‘With one of you I’ve got both, you’re so alike,’ he used to say. The other four boys are against me …’ and he broke off, sobbing shrilly.
The effort was tiring him. The surgeon gestured to Rance not keep to keep on much longer. Rance said, ‘Mana, my child. Great Teacher is your friend. He forgives you. He is your new father, I am your new brother. We forgive you: come and be ours again.’
The surgeon held up his hand and silenced Rance. ‘Sleep my child,’ he crooned, ‘sleep my boy. You’re forgiven, you’re free, you’re ours once more. Sleep … sleep … sleep,’ and he motioned to the medical orderly. The syringe was gently pressed then withdrawn. Mana’s head lolled on the pillow and a swab wiped the puncture. The session was over. Rance stood up, went over to the washbasin and swilled his face with cold water. He felt whacked.
Outside in the corridor, the surgeon said, ‘That was great stuff. Tremendous. Come to my office, both of you, for a coffee.’ Once seated, he continued, ‘Colonel, I guess you’ve missed your vocation. My congratulations.’ Ed Murray joined in with his praise.
‘Thank you, Doctor and Ed, for those kind words. Luckily for me, I’ve been involved with this sort of problem before with my Gurkhas. It’s tiring work. What’s next, after another cup of this delicious brew?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Only 2.15! Seems more like midnight …’
… Rance returned with the visitors, looking drawn enough to give credence to the earlier lie. The Cultural Attaché had thanked him and departed. Mana had slept right through the night and his cure had started from that time in a remarkable way.
Rance’s visit had worked wonders … and now, on New Year’s Day, 1975, the Cultural Attaché greeted a nearly cured and sane Mana affectionately.
‘Not your new year but a Farang one, nevertheless I greet you on this, for foreigners, auspicious occasion. How do you feel. Had your exercise for today, I suppose?’
‘Yes, thanks. I’m feeling great. I’ve been thinking a lot recently. So many of my thoughts are like bad dreams but I always wake up safe and sound here. I wonder how long you’ll be keeping he here for. I am quite happy, reading and the way you let me help with work in the wards is really interesting. As you know, I still get tired quite easily. I haven’t had such an idle life for a long time. Can’t remember when! I really like it here. It’s become almost like home to me. My own home life was never one I care to remember, not that I can recall much of it clearly.’
‘Well, I’m delighted to hear you are feeling so much better. I want you under my care for a little while longer. Don’t fret. What I now want is for you to have enough training here so that you can have something to turn you hand to when you are finally discharged. You may have difficulty in being re-employed by the Royal Thai Army.’
Mana seemed to accept that. ‘You know, one person I’d like to meet some time is a Lieutenant Colonel Rance. I met him in Malaysia. I had, I seem to remember, a most vivid dream about him wearing a ring. Seems a silly sort of dream but it conjures up vague recollections I’d like to sort out. I heard he was posted to Vientiane. When I get better and go back to Bangkok, I’d like to get in touch with him if possible. Haven’t seen him since Malaysian days. He was boss of the British jungle school. Do you know him?’
Nga Sô Lựự took the massive sheaf of papers from his secretary. It was composed of a number of separately-tied files. ‘How much have you culled?’ he asked.
‘Comrade, I have divided various differing categories into separate files. For instance, I have put those with nothing to report in the file at the bottom of the pile. I have also made out a check sheet of our cadres which you may find useful. The top file, so marked on the cover, concerns reports about cadres who have had contact with non-Asian imperialists. The second file, those with Asian imperialists and feudalists, and so on. Each file is marked and there is a contents sheet under the cadres’ check sheet. I felt that that was the least I could do to help.’
Nga Sô Lựự smiled a tired smile. ‘Comrade, you are thoughtful and diligent. I think I need one more list if it’s not here already. I need the record of everywhere the British Beaver aircraft has been since that sightseeing Englishman has been in Laos and where he has been with the imperialist Americans. Not that that will produce anything but it will complete our data. You can prepare one from your records?’ An affirmative nod. ‘Good man. I wish there were more like you, Comrade. Thank you.’
The secretary took his leave and Nga Sô Lựự settled down to a task that took him longer than he had expected. As he laboured on, then and on subsequent nights, a glow of expectancy took the place of nagging suspicion and that, in turn, was superseded by the thrill of the chase to come. His inscrutably dark, glassy eyes, blacker than a starless night, gleamed with anticipation.
Nga Sô Lựự worked his way patiently through the files, making a short list of people who particularly interested him. He started with Tâ Tran Quán on 18 November, 1972, wounded on Skyline Ridge. He then looked down the list of Rance’s movements. A visit to Long Cheng. Same area! Coincidence? Rance had only been in the country for, he checked another list, three days – since the previous Wednesday evening. Hardly time. Tâ Tran Quán’s time in Vientiane was only sketchily known but there could have been a time, just one day it would seem, when Tâ Tran Quán, Vong and Rance were together. Rather cleverly, he’d worked that out from an agent in the Saigon-regime pseudo-embassy. And Vong had not been seen since about the time of Mana’s disappearance and Tâ Tran Quán’s arrival in Ban Ban. Then there was that report from Silver City – ridiculous name – of a probable meeting of Tâ Tran Quán and Rance. Three times Tâ Tran Quán and the Englishman together. A little far-fetched at first glance but …?
He then turned his attention to Thong Damdouane. In this case it seemed unlikely that Thong had really had a chance of talking separately to a non-Asian imperialist but – once again – he did escort Rance alone to the gate of the Luang Prabang office and he sat at the back on the British aircraft on the way to Sam Neua. Rance was the military representative of the Co-Chairman, so neither occasion need be suspicious. Need be, could be: he knew enough about flying in light aircraft to know that a headset, when on internal or telephone, circuit could be heard by the others who were wearing headsets and also by the pilot. But just suppose an alteration, an unofficial modification, had been made, it would be relatively easy to talk without interfering with the pilot. He would get the military commander who flew that time to render a report on that side of the business and he’d get one of his Vientiane-based men to check if there had been any tampering with two pairs of headsets. And if there had been …
Le Dâng Khoã was a different matter: he and Mana were together at the British Army’s Jungle Warfare School under Colonel Rance. Pity, in a way, those two had clashed. Certainly Rance could not have had anything to do with either of them. There was no report of Le Dâng Khoã meeting Rance anywhere alone – but wait. ‘Believed sat together, briefly, during an LPF film show in the Vientiane HQ’. Then there were the other two reports from that place. One from Bounphong Sunthorn saying he believed Soth Petrasy had had a talk with Rance a few days before his own arrival from Sam Neua and also from Soth, equally inconclusive, but saying Bounphong was with Rance for a minute or two while when he, Soth, answered the telephone and Bounphong fainted, then even later for a brief moment after that ‘coup manqué’. There had been a third occasion when Bounphong went around some residences on the eve of the initial arrival of LPF representatives in Vientiane on Thursday, 11 October, 1973, to gather support for welcoming them. The driver had confirmed that Bounphong had entered Rance’s villa as he turned the car around in the drive. Yet another occasion was on the night of the party Rance held when it was discovered that Bounphong and Leuam were brothers. Office 95 had already had that report but the fact the Bounphong and Rance were just a bit late in coming into the house only now emerged. Nga Sô Lựự checked further but found nothing that excited his attention. An unresolved nag gnawed somewhere inside his brain but he couldn’t place it.
He checked the other reports: nothing from the Soviet comrades, nothing from the bars and the brothels, nothing from … nothing? The man at the Phou Si rotunda had said he remembered Rance and Leuam in conversation one day. He hadn’t mentioned it at the time as it had only occurred to him later and he had dismissed it as being of no importance. He recalled overhearing ‘Great Master’ being said but as Rance had told him they were going out as tourists, he had doubted it having any significance apart from referring to the Chief Bonze. Having remembered that there was something else that might, just, be of interest. After he and Leuam had come back to the hotel, the Englishman had taken a ring off his right hand, the little finger, and said, ‘now that’s over, I can take this off.’ However, as the letter from Office 95 had been so explicitly insistent, he had forwarded the information.
So there were the names of four of the most trusted comrades, disturbing but not damning: did they have anything in common amongst themselves, other than a devotion to the Cause? And how on earth could they have anything in common with Rance? He seemed an innocuous man though obviously steeped in military colonialism with imperial tendencies. The Soviet comrades had him pretty well summed up: surface-skating, and facile after an initial impression of depth and deliberation – but, even so, a remarkable linguist and ‘good with people’.
As Nga Sô Lựự considered the enormity of the situation were his suspicions ever to be proven, his thoughts went back to the name he believed Mana had been hinting at – Four Rings. Just say the four comrades he had been considering were those rings: Tâ Tran Quán was reported by the tactical military commander as swallowing a ring – was that to hide it? Rings were commonly worn by men. Was this just a code name? If not, were there four rings of the same pattern that had an esoteric bond? He felt his own little finger, stroking it as though turning a ring that was on it … and then the nag in his mind cleared. He remembered being exasperated during one seminar he had held quite a while back when Comrade Bounphong did just that as he was doing now with his own finger. Well, well, well. And Comrade Thong over with the Chinese comrades near Route 46 on a short liaison visit? Had he behaved similarly? He’d have to find out, easy enough to. Then did the fourth comrade he was thinking about have a ring as the other three did? If Le Dâng Khoã did not have one, was the link one of his own imagination: if he did, was it pure coincidence? If only Mana had not disappeared. Vexing, not to have had any word of him yet. He had not returned to any of his old haunts. Nga Sô Lựự fought down his impatience as pieces of his jigsaw puzzle refused to fit: Mana’s disappearance … four dedicated comrades … Rance, meddler or manipulator? … Chief Bonze … until he could determine any common link between them, he’d bide his time … and what sort of ring did that damned Englishman take off his finger? It would be much too far-fetched even to think that that was the ring that Le Dâng Khoã might have worn. No, damn it, even such a travesty could never happen.
He’d also have to establish a motive, if indeed his fears proved real. He could not afford to make a mistake, it would backfire too painfully. Meanwhile, he would plan for his small cell in Vientiane, based on the LPF contingent there, to be reinforced by some of his own men. The Protocols didn’t allow any increase in strength but they were way over the top already, so a few more wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered except total victory … he ground his teeth as he contemplated the scene but he’d tell no one, no one at all, until the final exposure. He turned his attention to other matters …
By the end of February, the surgeon treating Mana made a telephone call to a number in the US embassy in Bangkok and left a message for the Cultural Attaché that his charge was nearly, if not completely, cured and that he, the brain surgeon, wanted to carry out an experiment before he could give a definitive decision about his patient. He had to go to Bangkok for a few days sometime and he wondered if Rance could be got hold of. His patient had expressed a desire to see him and had even mentioned some dream about a ring. The experiment that the surgeon wanted to carry out was to let Mana meet Rance, talk with him and observe his reactions. Could the man taking the message please get the Cultural Attaché to arrange this? Once Rance had accepted this invitation, other details could be fixed. It would do his patient good to have a change of scenery and the Colonel had been so successful last time.
A week after the telephone call to the US embassy in Bangkok, the joint Anglo-American team that was responsible for targeting activities in sympathy with ‘Operation Four Rings’ met in the annex of the US embassy in Grosvenor Square, London, W 1. General Sir David Law opened proceedings by giving a resume of activities since Mana was snatched and Tâ Tran Quán restored into the Communist system. He also, for the benefit of those who might not have heard, asked Ed Murray to go through the session he had had with the surgeon, Mana and Rance at Utapao. It made a good story. Ed Murray then told the group about the Thai surgeon’s latest request involving Mana and the British DA. Before any comments or ideas were asked for, Bill Hodges asked if could make an announcement that might, possibly, influence further discussion: Gordon Parks was to be posted back to London and his relief would be John Chambers. It was, in fact, a straight swap. Heads nodded with approval and the General added that Rance would be receiving notification in the near future of the Defence Intelligence Directorate’s plan to extend him in post even further from the eight months already granted. October 1975 was the new date and even that was not sacrosanct.
The two Desk Officers, Maurice Burke and John Chambers, gave their opinion as to how long the South Vietnamese and the Lon Nol government troops in the Khmer Republic could withstand NVA pressure and October-November 1975 was the declared assessment. Others were more optimistic. The General then spoke on how the British government regarded the situation and, based on Rance’s latest report, didn’t query the timing mentioned but spoke of the lowering of RLA morale to such a point that were a sudden Communist push be made, it would be a virtual walk-over.
It was just before they broke up that the General voiced the feelings of those present. ‘ I only hope to goodness, Gentlemen, that we are going to gain something out of this extraordinary situation. I am loth to risk compromising either organisation, intelligence or military, but feel we simply must take advantage of any opportunity that might present itself. For that reason, I am going to write to Colonel Rance and tell that he may, if he thinks he can handle it, visit Mana. If you,’ turning to Ed Murray, ‘can arrange for John Chambers to be there also, so much the better. Every effort must be made to follow any lead Mana might give. We here are sensible to the constraints we have had placed on us about taking any overt action but if John and Ed’s boys could help nudge some situation to our benefit, we might help Rance in his “unconscious” role.’
After the meeting, the General buttonholed John Chambers and took him to one side. ‘We have only one way out. I will alert the only man I know who can help us: Charlie. Listen to this …’
The next week’s mail brought two letters for Rance. One, from General Law, briefly stated that Rance would be asked to go to Bangkok to meet Mana. If Rance felt that it was the wrong thing to do, he would have the discretion to decline. Whilst in Bangkok, he would meet up with John Chambers, Gordon Parks’ relief, who would be with him during any session he might have with Mana and, as a completely separate issue, to link up with Charlie to review the general situation. As the Rance-Mana meeting was not certain, and on the need-to-know principle, it had been decided not to mention Mana to Charlie. The letter closed with a hint of what the second letter contained, namely that his time as Defence Attaché would be further extended ‘in the exigencies of the service’, using a word that Rance had never come across except in the context of the army and postings.
Nga Sô Lựự sighed with satisfaction, something he rarely did. Odd, he mused, that despite every precaution, check, balance and counter-check, aberrations in the system could flourish unnoticed until some totally unconnected event happened that brought them into the light. He believed that he had the Four Rings in his sights. He believed he had their motive and he also believed he had Rance’s connection. He chided himself for being slow, for allowing apparent political intensity to act as a smoke screen. What had made him slower than was customary was that the two Tâ Lang men had obvious Vietnamese names, Le Dâng Khoã and Tâ Tran Quán. What he would have to do was to send a messenger to the wat at Sam Neua and see if there was, in fact, any record of their original names. He had enough time as, although he had a tenable hypothesis, he lacked both proof and convincing evidence that, indeed, the four suspects were enemies of the party, the Cause and the body politic. He foresaw a grand finale when he would arraign all four together and at the same time, to their surprise. In front of judge, jury and assembled comrades, he would expose them to the rest of the Communist world for the traitors they undoubtedly were. He would have to stage-manage it most carefully but stage-manage it he would. He even gave it a name: ‘Operation Four Rings’.
Nga Sô Lựự had contacted his colleagues over in the northwest of the country and, by dint of a carefully phrased question had elicited the reply that, yes, Comrade Thong Damdouane had a ring-twiddling habit during moments of concentration. That, and what was equally damaging, yes, two pairs of headsets had been tampered with shortly before the Beaver flew to Sam Neua. So much for Comrade Thong on two counts! That had left Comrade Le Dâng Khoã, apparently ringless. He had taken out the personal and confidential files of the four men under a cloud, his cloud he thought proudly, and read them through again. In the remarks column it was noted that, although Le Dâng Khoã claimed to come from the south of Vietnam, he spoke with a northern accent: point 1. Point 2 was that the four suspects and Mana were about the same age and, if all four suspects did come from the north, wasn’t it possible that, despite two being Lao and two being Vietnamese, they had some common starting point both in time and space? In Bounphong’s file he’d given his birthplace as Ban Liet and, as Nga Sô Lựự had been responsible for … it had hit him like a flash of lightening – motive!…1945, almost thirty years ago, soon after the war: the time when sap rose in his veins and loins, and the world had an exhilarating rose-red hue. He hadn’t, as a young man, been in charge. Ban Liet and Sam Neua were only one raid of many. Uncle Hố’s directive, even if Uncle himself was absent from Hanoi at the time, was obeyed to the letter. Nga Sô Lựự remembered it word for word: Never forget what you have been taught: ‘The revolutionaries’ business is destruction; terrible, complete, universal and ruthless … and, above all, by relentless planning, remorseless opportunism and a ruthless all-pervading fear.
At the time, he reflected, the killing in the Sam Neua wat had been an extravagance, if only because the audience was so small, but an enjoyable extravagance to be sure. But it had been good experience. Group B, his group, had rejoined Group A, the group that had burnt Ban Liet. They had been guided there by the Thai army deserter, whom they had killed there and then. They had also taken away a lad who said his name was … Mana. Another blinding flash … who must have been the same Mana who was trying to reach him. Nothing then was nearly so well organised as it was now. And the abbot of that time – was he not the Chief Bonze in Luang Prabang now? Leuam, Bounphong’s brother, talked about ‘Great Master’. Could he and the British DA have gone together to a pre-arranged meeting? Sightseeing? H’m. He cursed himself under his breath and turned his thoughts to Rance. It had merely struck him as risible that Rance should have learnt the royal northern Luang Prabang accent. He’d come from England with some knowledge of Lao, hadn’t he? He called for Rance’s card from the central registry. There is was: ‘Took lessons with Tao Inkham’ who, he knew, was the King’s niece. Another entry, written by his confidential secretary, made a connection even more clear: ‘Observed going to the royal palace with Tao Inkham during the evening function held on the day of the wedding of her sister to Prince Lanouk na Champassak, on 27 February 1974’. Then a damning entry: ‘Suspected of being in Bouam Long area on 19 March 1974, the time of the double-death incident in the jungle’. Nothing was proof positive yet much was undeniably suspicious.
He knew that Rance was due to leave Laos in the coming July. That was too short a time to discredit him or was it? As he was going quite soon, in the normal course of events it would save what would otherwise have been a nasty incident. Were he to stay … and the Political Commissar allowed his imagination to dwell on a suitable method of elimination before he turned his mind back to finding Mana and dealing with the Four Rings, rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple as he sought to ignore the incessant throbbing of expectancy.
Rance was glad that Mana was better. He had been shocked at that dramatic meeting they had had in Bouam Long. It was obvious that the man was in a bad state and he had wondered if cure would ever be possible. The preparation for the raid and the part he had played in setting it up often came back into his mind. He still found it harder to be a spectator than a doer although he knew he had not much option for anything else. Gordon Parks had called him into his office in the secure part of the embassy and given him a briefing. He finished up by saying, ‘There are two main points, Jason. One is that Mana’s request to see you is genuine and, in that it was not suggested by the surgeon, offers him a good opportunity to gauge Mana’s reactions, frame of mind, mental stability and temperament in surroundings he knows but in which he has not been in for a long time. Mana particularly mentioned a ring, dreamed he’d seen you wearing one, so play that whichever way you will. The other point is that, as you know, you will be meeting Charlie. You will have to play it by ear, obviously, as you can get no official help from anyone. However, one point that has been fed into the system is that no mention of the Four Rings and Mana or of your involvement with them is ever to be made to him. He will have been briefed that you are in no different a position from when you first met him as regards any “meddling”, I might call it, is concerned. Indeed, if he is the man we are led to believe him to be, he’ll know in what regard you are held by the folk you work with and, may I say it, against. You are to keep the meeting with Mana a secret from people in the embassy. Can you get down to Bangkok legitimately?’
‘Hang on a mo. When does the surgeon want to bring Mana up and how easily can Charlie be got hold of? The sooner the better as far as I am concerned.’
‘Any day week ending 29 March. It’s the 10th today, so that means that we’ve got a little while to jack it up. Utapao and Charlie need only twenty-four hours’ notice and, as you also may have guessed, John Chambers is standing by to come out almost any time.’
‘Tell you what, Gordon. I can go on the bag run on the 26th, have our talk on the 27th and get back on the 28th, which is Good Friday. That’ll raise no eyebrows. In fact, it is the turn of my clerk to go down on that run but we’ll do a swap.’
‘Fine, then. Leave everything to me. There should be no problem with that little lot.’
On the Wednesday afternoon, Leuam drove Rance down to Wattay with the bag. Rance was in good spirits. He felt excited at the prospect of another little jaunt down south and, somehow, he felt it was an important mission. The silent Leuam noticed his boss’s good mood and wondered why.
‘I’ve got news for you, Leuam. I am not being replaced as soon as I thought I would be.’ He had had it confirmed by signal that morning and so could tell him about it. ‘You’ve got to bear with me at least till next October. How does that affect your prophesy at the baçi for the last DA? It’s a little more than thirty-two months for the thirty-two phees. Can you get a message to your brother and the others? They’d be interested, I’m sure.’
As he left the car to go to the airport, he turned and said, ‘Back on Friday. See you then.’
He flirted outrageously with the Thai Airways hostess on the flight down and she responded demurely. She felt safe with this tall, silver-haired Englishman who was old enough to be her father and Rance was in no way taken in by her fluttering eyelashes and winsome smile. ‘I’m staying in Bangkok for a couple of nights. Let me take you out for a meal,’ he invited, knowing full well she’d decline. She hesitated just long enough to entice him before shaking her head. I’d like to have the best of three pinfalls with you, he said to himself, using the wrestling jargon he’d picked up many years before in Singapore. His thoughts turned to the other Asian women who had come his way since he became enmeshed in this job – Golden Fairy, Jasmine, Kaysorn Bouapha, his language teacher in his early days who had been persuaded by the Deputy Commander-in-Chief to try and get him to compromise himself but lying nude in his bed one Sunday afternoon when he’d gone out to lunch, but particularly to Golden Fairy to whom, he admitted to himself, he’d lost his heart. The air hostess’s voice broke into his thoughts as she offered him a sweet for the descent and shattered his reverie. He clicked back into focus: he was not going to Bangkok for the equivalent of a dirty weekend. He was on a job that could turn sour: would he shatter Mana or complete his cure? He’d soon know.
As normal, he was met by the embassy Security Officer and, with traffic in Bangkok heavy, they reached the embassy over an hour later. He was handed a hotel slip, New Imperial, just over the Phloen Chit road. He’d carry his own bag and stretch his legs.
At his hotel desk he was handed a message that he’d be picked up at 8 o’clock the next morning. He went to his room, had a hot shower and was sitting on his bed when the telephone rang. ‘Hello. Rance here,’ he announced.
A familiar voice in French answered. ‘’Allo Colonel. My air hostess friend told me about her passenger. I rang the Duty Officer in the British embassy and he told me where you were. Simple. Can we fix up a meeting together?’
With mixed reactions, he replied in a kindly tone, ‘Mlle. Kaysorn! Long time no hear. I didn’t know that you were in Bangkok.’ It couldn’t matter if they met: it was not near his own doorstep and he was in the mood for a tumble if the chance were to arise. ‘Yes. Will you come here or shall I meet in your place?’
They decided to meet at an eating house, chosen by Kaysorn, who didn’t like either of his suggestions, at 8 p.m. She was prettier than he remembered her, or was the light being kind? She talked volubly: she couldn’t bear living in Vientiane and not being able to meet him. She realised that she’d been brash and he properly correct but she hadn’t been herself. When asked what she did for a living, she proudly said teaching French at the French Cultural Centre. After the meal, she suggested they go to her room in Lumphini Park, in the south of the city. He happily accepted her invitation. She lived in a small bed-sitter, modest and only just not squalid.
After a bit of chat, she said I saw a friend of my brother Phoun, the barber in Vientiane who always cuts your hair, in town earlier today. Someone called Mana Varamit.’
Rance managed to hide his astonishment and asked casually, ‘Mana who? I didn’t catch his name properly.’
‘Varamit. Mana Varamit. I hadn’t seen him for quite a long time. When I last met Phoun we were only saying we neither of us had seen him since, oh, some time in 1974 – last year.’
Rance’s mind reeled and, unusually for him, he fumbled for words. ‘1974, did you say? Where? What was he doing?’
She looked at him sharply. ‘You don’t know him, do you? You sound interested. Funny if the three of us knew him.’
‘No,’ he drawled, searching for a way out. ‘Probably not the same man as I knew. I still find Thai and Lao family names muddling.’
‘Well, since you ask, he was in Vientiane. Phoun and I were walking near the Morning Market and we saw him near the LPF HQ. He looked young for his age.’
Rance had by then recovered his calm and so relieved was he that he had not given anything away he took her hand and caressed it. She looked him straight in the eye and said, slowly and deliberately, switching from Lao to French, ‘I’ll only let you seduce me if you promise to marry me.’
It sounded so ludicrously stilted that Rance broke the tension that had sprung up by a burst of unrestrained laughter. ‘Good night, Mlle. Kaysorn,’ he said gravely and walked out of the room, leaving her gawping at his sudden and unexpected departure.
I’ll get even with you yet, she angrily promised, muttering to herself.
The meeting with Mana, on the face of it, seemed a success. Rance wore his ring on the index finger of his left hand. Mana didn’t seem to respond in any way to it, which struck Rance as a bit odd in view of what he had been told. They talked about their time in Malaysia, Rance purposely not touching on the incidents during the closing stages of the final exercise. He then switched from Thai to English and they made gentle, anodyne remarks comparing Mana’s English to his Thai. Rance told Mana how he had learnt Thai when at the Jungle Warfare School and how he had never spoken to a Thai audience before.
‘Have you been to Vientiane?’ No, never, was the reply, he’d like to go there. Rance then asked him about his family. Mana couldn’t recall when his parents had died. He only had vague recollections of the other members of his family but he thought he had one sister and maybe a younger brother. He was still a bit hazy after an accident. Hit on the head, he’d been, but he was really much better.
They had coffee and it was time to go. Without Mana seeing it, Rance transferred the ring onto the little finger of his right hand. Last to leave, he deliberately shook Mana’s hand and made the wai salutation. A strained and worried expression momentarily registered on the Thai’s face as his eyes avoided Rance’s and followed the movement of the ring, hungrily.
John Chambers was vastly impressed by what he had seen and heard.
Rance had not met Charlie since his visit to Xieng Lom. For some reason he couldn’t place, something didn’t ring true, either because Charlie’s English was perfect or because he linked the pornographic film he’d seen that night with Kaysorn lying drugged in his visitor’s bedroom but as Charlie was urbane, relaxed and charming, Rance was soon at ease. They conferred in a secure room in the British embassy, Ed Murray also being present. John Chambers opened the session.
‘This is an unusual meeting, Gentlemen, that we’ve embarked on. I believe I don’t have to rehearse our common aims and aspirations. We are at a disadvantage in that, for better or for worse – and I am not saying which of the two I think it is – the British government has insisted that the rules under which she is officially represented must be scrupulously adhered to. I believe you, Ed, fully agree that, under the present circumstances, it would be folly to attempt otherwise.
‘As for your country, Charlie, I don’t have to tell you how little you need the Communists on the far bank of the Mekong or anywhere on your borders. You, Colonel Jason, are under a greater burden than are we because most of what you know is first-hand and entirely dependent on human contacts that you have so assiduously built up these last two and a half years whereas, while our knowledge may be broader owing to a wider range of sources, it is mostly second-hand and much more impersonal.
‘We will, sooner or later, and I believe sooner, be in a difficult position and by that I mean it is almost certain that a Communist victory will mean a purge, lack of contacts, restrictions on movements and a host of other constraints not now encountered. The lead up to that victory will be bloody and dangerous, certainly in Vietnam and the Khmer Republic and probably in Laos also. Anything that we can do against the Communists must be geared in accordance with our slender resources and meet four conditions: ward off the final take-over in Laos for as long as possible, allow as long a breathing space for Thailand as possible, avoid unnecessary casualties to those employed against any “opportunity targets” that present themselves and, finally, remain unattributable. There may be other minor considerations but they don’t spring to mind. The $64,000 question is, quite simply, how? We are here today to try and answer that poser. Any ideas, anybody?’ and three pairs of eyes were turned on Rance.
‘Yes and no. Sorry, that’s a damned silly answer! What I mean to say is “yes” in general terms and “no” in specifics. I can see the need for a commando-type – “Ranger” to you, Ed – operation, mounted quickly and unobtrusively by one small group of men against another small group, “inside information”, to kidnap a key man or key men, rescue somebody, break in and burgle something deemed to be of vital importance – plans, codes, evidence of some sort – from a place properly guarded and/or a variation on that theme. At this stage of the game, though, it might not even be cosmetic in value. That’s my “yes”. My “no” is the reverse of that: no targets, no details.’
‘I don’t think we can do better than that, can we?’ John asked after a pause to let what Rance had said sink in. The other two men shook their head. ‘Charlie, have you anything you’d like to say?’
‘Yes, John. We, none of us here, are not in, how shall I say it? – big business. There are many examples of similar pitiful attempts of last-ditch stands with their even more pitiful failures. My target must be one that nobody else can deal with – and you Brits are my taskers. By that I mean it will be up to you to assess the priority and up to me to accept it or veto it. I can fix for indefinite leave of absence from my unit. Don’t ask me how but I can.’ He grinned engagingly. ‘I must be easily contactable, discreetly placed and have as much warning as possible. As regards my team I can call on the services of men who mean nothing, politically or diplomatically, to the United States or to Great Britain. I would like to suggest I will be based over the river on Thai territory in Nong Khai so in easy reach of Vientiane and I will arrange to be contactable at twelve hours’ notice through the foreman of the boatyard where the British launch is kept. As for when I will be ready – it’ll take the Communists anything from one month to, say, eight to topple Saigon, so let’s say I’ll be ready from 1 May.’
The meeting had little more to say and anyway Rance had to go and make arrangements for the return bag. As he took his leave from John Chambers, he said, ‘See you up there, John.’
John Chambers looked at Rance as he replied, shaking his hand. ‘You know I’ll need quite a lot of help from you in Vientiane if only because all these Asians look alike to me! It will take me a long, long time to get anywhere near your standard.’
‘So you’ve come to report to us, have you, Leuam, at long last?’ Soth Petrasy, flanked by Leuam’s brother, Bounphong and Le Dâng Khoã, sat at a table the other side of which stood Leuam, looking sheepish. ‘You haven’t taken much notice of our previous invitation.’
Leuam shuffled his feet. ‘I haven’t come because I’ve had nothing to say. My Colonen only ever talks routine business – dates, times, duties, places and the like, normally with a laugh and a joke thrown in. You know he likes to walk to and from work. I’m not a great talker. I hadn’t forgotten but there never seems to be anything worth reporting.’
‘Why didn’t you report that Colonel Rance flew away with some other Attachés, in an imperialist American aeroplane. It wasn’t a full Attaché function as no true comrades were there.’
‘I have no idea who or what was involved and it never occurred to me that you’d want to know anything like that. It’s not the first time my Colonel has been in one of those planes. And you obviously know more about it than I do without my telling you so it wouldn’t have been news, would it?’
‘That’s not the point,’ said Soth, slightly disarmed by the frank reply. ‘What have you come to see us now for?’
‘Only to say that Colonel Rance has taken the bag down to Bangkok. Took it down yesterday and returns tomorrow. On the way down to Wattay he told me he was not now leaving Laos in late April-May but had had another extension. He seemed very happy. Nothing else.’
‘Accepted this time. Off you go but remember what I said.’
Leuam excused himself and left. The other two men got up and, nodding to Soth, followed Leuam outside the building. A car drew up to take Le Dâng Khoã to the other side of town. Bounphong nudged Le Dâng Khoã and suggested he drop Leuam off on the way.
‘In you get, Leuam,’ said Le Dâng Khoã. ‘How far do you want to go? If it’s not out of my way, I’ll take you there.’
Leuam turned and bade his brother farewell. He got into the back of the car, which struck the watching Soth as being over-familiar. The car drove off and Bounphong rejoined his senior.
‘I hope Comrade Le Dâng Khoã also gives him a talking to as they go, especially as he’s sitting in the back,’ he grumbled. ‘I can’t understand his reticence.’
‘Naturally shy and rather cowed,’ said Bounphong. ‘Always was, as well as not realising the implications of the situation. In fact, it was either Leuam or the escort sitting in the back.’
In the car Le Dâng Khoã said, softly enough for the escort and driver not to hear, ‘When you see Colonel Rance tomorrow, tell him his friend Tâ Tran Quán has reached where he wanted to go, is in reasonable health and is establishing himself carefully. However, he is not out of danger – nor,’ as an afterthought, ‘are we … nor, for that matter, is the Colonel himself.’
As Rance flew back on the morrow, no matter how much the hostess, the same girl as on the flight down, tried to attract the attention of the man she had decided might make a good sugar daddy, she failed. He was lost in thought … perseverance?